When You Care
by Sealeena
Summary: What if...Daryl got hired as a farm hand on the Greene farm just a few months before the zombie apocalypse happened? What if Beth went with Daryl to get Merle in Atlanta when it all started going to shit and that just led to more shit? The archer and the songbird find the best of themselves, and the worst, together when the world starts burning. Bethyl pairing.
1. Introductions

**When You Care**

 _A Bethyl Story_

 _ **Chapter 1 - Introductions**_

She was an early riser, always had been, even on weekends. There wasn't anything wrong with that, just was a simple truth. The sun came up, and she rose with it, bright eyes and skin aglow; though she was one to never voice her readiness in the morning. She never was that overly cheerful person that would set someone else on edge and have them grinding their teeth until their morning cup of coffee was consumed. In fact, she was quiet. She was just a slip of a thing that could tread through the old farmhouse without anyone hearing, like a ghost that roamed through the halls, ethereal and soft.

Spring was in the air, though Georgia never got that cold in the first place. Any snow meant the end of the world down in the South, and this year had been no exception with a mere two inches shutting down the entire town for days as a few more inches had lazily drifted down quickly after. The day after that though, it was all melted under the shining sun. Now, green was everywhere: in the fields, in the trees, people's gardens. There wasn't a trace of cold or frost to come, a comfort for so many that relied on the damp soil this time of year to start plowing and seeding.

Junior year of high school was quickly coming to a close and then Beth Greene would soon be focusing on college applications, though more specifically which college to actually go to. The recruiting started early it seemed, and she already had a very nice offer for a pre-med program at the prestigious Johns Hopkins in Baltimore: something that her daddy had been bragging about to all his patients at the clinic for the last two weeks when he stepped in, human or not. However, in a town as small as hers, girls like Beth Greene didn't go to college, especially for such a strict study.

Girls like Beth Greene married their high school sweetheart young (currently Jimmy since winter formal, a tall and lanky shy boy of seventeen and just graduating with plans to take over his family farming business), got pregnant and had two little ones and a household to run with an iron fist by the time they were twenty-one. Girls like her might keep their little quirks as they went through life, but stayed strong with their Christian faith and regularly went to Church and taught Sunday school without fail. Girls like her didn't question the order of small towns, clicked their tongues disapprovingly as that black sheep of an older sister went off and had a whirlwind affair with a married professor while in college that went down in smoke, and most of all: girls like her didn't leave Georgia.

It was sad that these things were normally accepted where she was from. Maggie, while the middle child, was her oldest sister by half (different mothers). It was almost some unwritten duty somewhere in the laws of sisterhood that stated Maggie had to be the one that paved a casual path of slight self-destruction while running off to college and with new boys and then Beth reclaimed family honor by doing everything simple and right.

Beth went over to her dresser and looked at the letter again.

She wasn't so sure anymore what to do.

Daddy said getting the acceptance for the pre-med program was an honor, especially at the tender age of just turning seventeen. He told her that if it was something she wanted to do, she needed to keep her grades up and apply for scholarships to cover what the university didn't: books, food, and enough leftover money for a trip or two back home.

Hershel was the local vet in their sleepy little Georgia town. He was an older gentleman that relied heavily on his faith after his terrible brush with alcoholism, though was quite distrustful of many strangers with a heavy dose of old school Southern racism on the side. It was surprising for Beth overall at his ecstatic reaction to the recruitment letter she had received. Of all people, she expected that he wanted her to be like her mother and settle down with a nice, local boy.

However, Hershel had been full of surprises lately. In some strange effort of showing her that their little local slice of farming they maintained would go on without her, the vet had hired an older man that would be starting this weekend to ease the burden of chores, especially with Otis gone.

"Just some high school, redneck dropout that's been a mechanic and dabbled here and there," he had informed one evening while he sat in his recliner. His wife, Annette, sat next to him, knitting and nodding while humming some indistinct tune. "He won't need much pay, just a place to stay and his brother might drop by sometimes and help out. Told 'em they can hole up in the barn office, fix it nice how they want and we'll feed them free of charge. This is just to help us get some of the equipment fixed up and get organized so that maybe we won't need you next summer. I'm hoping Otis can be back on his feet by then. I know it's tearing him up something awful, but you don't fix a crushed pelvis that easily. If he doesn't turn out to be so bad, might be asking the man back. Otis is getting on in years, I don't expect as much out of him as I used to and we need someone younger and stronger."

The idea was...surprisingly optimistic.

Beth looked up from her magazine with a start. The idea was also very foreign.

Strange.

"You don't have to do this, Daddy," she chided.

Her older half brother, Shawn who lived only a few miles away on his own property, born from Annette's previous marriage, helped Otis out with the last of harvesting when Beth was in school at the very first signs of fall. In the summer, Beth was often in charge of the property lately when Hershel left to help with the vet clinic, the young lady having been trained to drive anything and everything, though not much of a mechanic (that was when Shawn would try to help, though that usually failed miserably). Annette had never been one for farming, the classic housewife running the household of cooking and cleaning, that helped with the chickens and milked the two dairy cows they had at five in the morning every day since she had married her husband until the arthritis made it too much to bear. Originally, their foreman Otis, took care of most operations, Beth helping out in Hershel's place. Otis had a wife Patricia and they lived at the Greene farm in the main house, but a freak tractor accident crushed his pelvis some months back and they had moved to Atlanta while he remained in the hospital recuperating.

A new person in town, though...that never happened often, and only admitting silently to herself did Beth allow the excitement to spread through her. Life on the farm, while quaint and simple, was quite boring. "What's his name then?"

Without looking up from his own reading, Hershel replied, "Daryl. Daryl Dixon."

Beth placed the letter down when she heard the putt-putt of an older pickup that took her out of her dreaming as it pulled into the yard. She went over to her window that looked out and over their farm, an unknown black Ford slowly coming to a rest beside the other vehicles in the yard. The back was loaded up with a few odds and ends, identifying someone with a nomadic nature owned the vehicle. One man sat in the driver's seat, finishing the last of a cigarette, the smoke making a hazy, lazy winding trail in the air before dissipating.

She couldn't see much of him from the window, merely his profile at best: short and messy Walmart hair cut, old button-up plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with several days worth of stubble on his face that looked as if he had attempted to at least tame it recently. He was older than her, maybe even old enough to be her father, but a rough lifestyle had more dramatically aged him, considering the energy that seemed to hum through him that was not normally found in old men. The guess was probably early to mid-thirties: hardened by life, but not all the way broken.

The man stepped out of the pickup, cracking his neck as he stood up tall and Beth was struck by that image of pure male energy, his shirt creeping up to show hard lines along his stomach as he stretched, a smattering of a line of hair that dipped somewhere she had never been before. She felt something unfamiliar creep into her, a strange heat that made her head buzz and everything seem a little fuzzy. Then suddenly, the man was looking up at her window and seemingly directly at her, his eyes a brilliant slate blue that were stormy like the thunderclouds that hovered on the horizon. She backed away from the window, flushing at being caught peeping and ran to the bathroom to wash her face and maybe some of the heat caused by her heart beating so fast.

Unknown to her, the man had given a smirk with a bit of a guffaw as he threw his cigarette down on the ground and stamped it out. He cracked his knuckles this time and headed for the front door of the farm house, almost itching with unease.

* * *

Merle had been off on another bender and landed himself in jail, a drunken disorderly, thank fucking God or what the fuck ever was listening. The fact that it wasn't something like drugs or gun running was a bit of a miracle, to say the least. He was due to be released a few weeks from now, but in the meantime, Daryl needed money. The younger of the Dixon brothers, while normally hot headed, knew better and to stay out of trouble, usually more content to be the one that sat back and stay quiet.

Years of abuse made sure of that.

With any luck, Merle would try to sober up and go off with a lady friend for a little while after his release. Sometimes that would happen.

Daryl loved his brother, but there was a difference between the love and twisted familial sense of obligation he held in comparison with enjoying the company of a relative. He didn't like Merle, and to be honest, every time Merle winded up in jail was one less headache to worry about...at least for a little while. But, just because he didn't like him didn't mean he didn't love him. Merle was all he had left in this life, mother dead thanks to burning herself to death with a stray cigarette while passed out from drinking, and dear old daddy was a combination of liver disease and a touch of lung cancer at the end (may the dick rot in hell).

So it was at this time, earlier in the morning than he originally planned, that Daryl Dixon had somehow landed an under the table job as a farmhand at the Greene family farm.

Free food and a free place to sleep (even if it was a barn) was more than enticing, especially with the operation being as small as it was. The man Hershel had said he wouldn't be getting paid much as they weren't rich by any means and it was a temp job until their foreman Otis was back on his feet, but Daryl didn't care. It was far enough from the crapshoot that Atlanta was and he'd be able to pick up Merle on short notice when he was released if need be (hopefully not), without his older brother stumbling into this area as easily as he had in the past.

Merle had a way of finding where Daryl stayed and usually caused trouble: the main reason Daryl never put roots down anywhere.

Damn place was just short of paradise as far as he was concerned.

It was far enough from the highway but close to the woods with what was most likely the Chattahoochee River not far away, or a smaller river or lake that hooked directly up with it anyways. The hunting would be fantastic for some small game in the summer and early fall.

He parked his pickup next to the other cars, an unmarked parking lot of sorts. He placed it in neutral and shut it off, enjoying the last dregs of his cigarette before starting his first day on the job. With a sigh, he opened the door and got out, cracking his neck. He then allowed himself to stretch his body, relishing the feeling of the wire of his muscles becoming fluid and loose. While stretching, he felt eyes on him.

He always could tell if another person was around. Something about half living in the woods could do that to someone. You knew someone was watching; it was a feeling, sometimes unsettling, sometimes comforting, but usually the first. Daryl was never one for people and even out here, it wasn't an exception normally.

He looked up to the window of the spacious plantation home, catching the stare of a young woman that backed up, still staring a moment before rushing off.

Skittish as a deer.

He was at the door quicker than he wanted to be, but Daryl had already met Hershel, helping the older gentleman with his vehicle that had broken down a few nights ago. He was offered a job right on the spot after some light conversation and getting Hershel moving again.

Daryl knocked on the door, knuckles rapping sharply against the wood of the screen door frame, clear as day. An older woman answered the door, brunette hair with a long nose and delicate neck, the hair pulled back into an effortless bun.

She wiped her hands on the apron, smiling.

"Hi there, can I help you?" she asked.

"Mmh'ere for Hershel Greene?" He jammed his hands into his pockets, thumbs hanging out. "He live here, right?"

Recognition flashed in her eyes. She opened the screen door, motioning for him to enter the home. "You must be Daryl. Hershel said you'd be coming. I'm Annette. Please, c'mon in." The good 'ol Southern charm was in full flair. She did motion for Daryl to take his muddy boots off in the entryway, waiting patiently and then had him follow her to the kitchen, having him take a seat at one of the stools at the kitchen island. The smell of breakfast was strong, homemade cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven and Daryl tried to hide the growling his stomach gave off. "Ya hungry, Daryl?" Without getting an answer, she put one of the rolls onto a plate, pouring a large glass of milk and setting it down in front of him. "Hershel will be a few minutes yet. Why don't you git some food in ya before the day starts?"

Daryl gave a noncommittal grunt, however nodding and grabbing the warm bun with his hand, lips smacking loudly as he ate.

"Momma, have you seen my sweater?" A voice, young, light, and extremely innocent, drifted down from upstairs. There was the light tread of feet down the stairs and a young woman walked into the room, distracted with her hair. "It's the the one I crocheted for sewing class last fall." She finally got her hair into a hair ponytail, lush blonde locks flipped back to reveal the young woman's face, clear and fine boned, with most notable light blue eyes that were widened with surprise at the moment, then became like hard glass when turned on the stranger that was in her kitchen. "Oh...uhm...hi there."

"Beth, this is our new farm hand, Daryl," Annette said. She motioned towards Beth. "Daryl, this is my daughter, Beth. She can show you around this morning since Shawn can't seem to get away from his place lately." She turned to address Daryl briefly. "Shawn is my oldest boy, moved out last year a few miles over. Starting on his own." The pride at the success of her son was evident in her voice.

There was a brief silence. Beth's small lips opened a little, pink blush staining her cheek. Her blue eyes were large and wide at being put on the spot, only being a teenager leading to the slightest awkward situations as being the most painfully enduring in their minds.

Daryl was never one for conversation, his lack of tact and wish to be silent most days making situations such as now more incredibly awkward. He stared Beth down, recognizing her as the young woman in the window when he first parked his vehicle. He knew it was rude, making her uncomfortable by the shift of her supple hips, but his gaze was deep; eyes were like a rushing river, dangerous and bright.

"Beth, grab some breakfast quick," Annette interrupted. She set up a plate that was next to where Daryl sat and put her hands on her hips, frustrated. "Where are your manners, girl?"

"Mm'sorr," Beth mumbled in reply. She quickly took a seat and Daryl couldn't help but notice how frail she was, light bones like a bird and more skittish than a damn rabbit; muscles tight and poised, ready for flight. She glanced sideways at him as her thin fingers quickly grabbed hold of the cinnamon bun, a warm piece torn off and quickly disappearing into her mouth. "Hi."

"Hey." He nodded back before shoving the rest of his breakfast in his face, lips smacking loudly and sucking at his fingers, oblivious to the winces on the lady's faces. He tried to remember some form of manners and start a conversation, the act alone foreign. "So what're we gon' git done today?"

Beth chewed slowly, eyeing him nervously. She wiped her hands on a napkin ever so daintily and took a sip of milk to clear her throat, all the while making note of how he sized her up. While Beth was an innocent and naive young woman for the most part, she had seen that look on many boys in her school before; especially around long, slim legs with nothing but skirts and shorts that barely skimmed along the thighs and left little to the imagination. However, their stares weren't necessarily as hard or sharp as this man's. Boys could never compare to a man that way.

A hunter.

This man seemed to be more at home shooting and skinning deer than being around people, and the way his gaze pierced her made her feel hot and extremely uncomfortable in the most confusing of ways. Goosebumps tingling along her skin with lightning speed, much like when listening to the perfect song. The electricity of it was almost tangible.

She broke the small moment.

A loud clearing of her throat and she replied, "Well Daddy told me that tha tracter was actin' up. I'll show you the barn and the property. And then I'll show you the chores we do. That okay, momma?"

Annette nodded, busying herself with dishes and turned her back to the pair. Daryl looked over to Beth, whom quickly stared down at her plate, focusing on finishing the rest of her breakfast. He turned away, aware of her obvious discomfort, though he knew he had done nothing to necessarily offend her. He may not have been the most cultured man, but he knew how to be polite to a woman when necessary and gave nothing but respect, the opposite of his father. Beth looked like she had bitten into a rotten apple he told her was ripe and now intensely distrusted him.

An older gentleman walked through the doorway of the kitchen. He was put together quite well for the most part. However, a tiredness dragged at him. Daryl could recognize inner demons. Like sought out like after all. It was Hershel Greene: iron pressed shirt with suspenders and white hair combed to perfection, and eyes harsh with steely blue-grey. He set down the Bible he carried, well worn and obviously loved for more than a few years.

"Good morning darling," Hershel greeted his wife, giving a quick and chaste kiss. Annette hummed back her hello and smiled warmly. The head of the household then took a stand at the counter, close to Beth. "Sweetheart." It was spoken with affection, Beth kissing his cheek quickly in response, and he accepted the plate that Annette handed him. "Hello, Daryl. Glad you could make it."

"Mornin." Daryl's answer was polite as possible, but short as he finished his breakfast and broke eye contact.

"I apologize for not greeting you right away. I'll also have to apologize for not being able to show you around the place. I don't do as much hard labor anymore, and Beth and Shawn have been helping with the workload since I have to play nice in town and Otis is away," Hershel explained. "I can talk to you more about pay and at least show you where you can stay if you wouldn't mind. Beth can show you around after."

"Sounds fine to me," Daryl stated as he stood and stretched. Some days, there were more kinks in him than he'd care to admit, especially if he sat around for more than a few minutes. He caught Beth observing him and she turned away, ears becoming bright red as she blushed furiously. He merely raised an eyebrow in return. "Get the day started, I suppose?"

 **End Chapter 1**

 _Author Note:_ I wanted to get some more of this story written before I posted, but it's been sitting on my Google Docs for a little while now, and I figured I might as well take a plunge and get it out there for some good 'ol genuine feedback. After that horrible MSF for season 5, I know Bethyl in itself took a bit of a dive. There's the pockets of resistance on Denial Island that went down with the ship, and I love visiting every now and then, but I'm on Team Acceptance as of late *sobs*. However, I still want to celebrate Bethyl. I think they deserve to be celebrated in a proper way, and that's why I'm writing this. I tend to process feelings through writing, it's been a way of coping with life in general. Anyways, as you can tell I'm writing their speech with inflection and tone, so that's on purpose, not spelling/grammatical errors. Any other errors are my fault, I don't get this stuff beta'd (I know I should, I'm a bit of a lone wolf, sorry). Again, please tell me your thoughts on this. Comments, criticism, praise(?) are all totally appropriate. Sorry for the long notes, I tend to do explanations and rants in here, so always feel free to skip if you wish. Have a lovely summer day :D

 **General Warnings: Abuse mentions/happenings, sexual situations, violence, sexual assault, other intense situations, etc. - Anything that actually happens in the chapter, I will post a warning ahead of time for actions like that to avoid triggering for anyone.**

 _Ciao_


	2. I'm a Workin Man

**When You Care**

 _A Bethyl Story_

 _ **Chapter 2 - I'm a Workin Man**_

 **Warning(s): Masturbating scene, mentions of child abuse, self abuse**

Beth hummed gently as she sat on the porch waiting, plucking at an old, beat-up guitar that was becoming alarmingly out of tune. However, it didn't stop her from singing, her voice sweet and clear like a meadowlark, soft but quite strong and confident. She was typically a shy, young lady, somewhat prude and still unaware of the true evils of men, but when she sang...it was as if someone else took over.

This was what Daryl felt as he slowly approached her after having talked with Hershel about his pay. The man had showed him the barn, which was in better shape than Daryl had expected. There was more hay than he originally would like, but it had a bed and a fan. Hell, there was even an old television set, and the hay was only in the stalls, not really in the old office/tack room where he would be staying.

When Merle was off, either gone in a haze of drug use, or locked up like he was this time, Daryl could usually find the odd job here or there. He sometimes lucked out and got into mom n' pop mechanic shops that never questioned his background or schooling. He'd usually find a crap hole of a fleabag motel, or even sleep in his truck for days at a time in a parking lot if worst came to worst. It could go on like this for days, months even. Then out of the blue, Merle would somehow find him and then Daryl be off with his older brother: the two of them against the world.

The cycle was endless and sometimes beyond frustrating. There had been once or twice over the last few years where he felt he could begin a life, but his brother always made sure to wreck and burn any possible bridges.

The farm was beautiful, the family nice enough. Daryl focused on Beth's singing, an older song, sounded like the Beatles.

"Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say." Her voice was so clear and it was so peaceful, peaceful for the first time in a long time for Daryl.

Maybe he could stay here, awhile at least. He might just let his brother figure out his own shit for once, instead of wrecking what he tried to make of his life. It might be easier that way.

Just for a little while.

 _Please don't come anytime soon Merle._

"Oh, I believe in yest….erday…" Beth trailed off as she noticed Daryl staring at her, hands shoved into his pockets, quiet and still as ever. She blushed bright red, quickly putting the guitar back in its case and setting it aside. "Sorry. Didn't see ya there." Quick as the little songbird she was, she was up and off the porch past him, that nervous energy trilling through her veins. "Daddy get everything straightened out wit you?"

"Mmm'hmmm," was Daryl's reply.

"What?" Her brow furrowed slightly as she turned around, the question genuine, no malice in her voice whatsoever. She had merely heard a strange rumbling from him, very soft to where she picked up the barest trace of sound.

"M'Yes," he bit out more harshly than intended, eyes downcast slightly in the closest thing to an apology.

Beth nodded and gulped, the clear blue eyes bright and wet like shining glass. Fuck, she looked vulnerable, and Daryl wasn't sure if he felt pissed off or guilty. Maybe it was a little bit of both, part of him wanted to backpedal and comfort her until she didn't look so frail, the other part wanted to lash out and toughen her up a bit. He wasn't always nice, but he was a hell of a lot nicer and with better intentions than most.

Perhaps she seemed to catch his thoughts, because Beth suddenly got a little red in the cheeks, puffing her chest out and straightening her back to hold her head high instead of the awful clenching that made her retreat on herself. Her eyes turned hard to steel and she motioned towards his pickup.

"You gonna start driving then?" Her tone was somewhat icy and Daryl found himself nodding slightly in approval at the sudden change into a spitfire attitude. She took the nod as a yes and they both clambered in, Beth bouncing up and down a little in the passenger seat, engulfed by the old cloth and vinyl interior. Daryl had the old beater started and put the clutch in to shift to second gear, Beth then saying, "Let's go back out to the main road and I'll show you the furthest field we got. It's west of here just a few miles, over by Shawn's place. That's my brother," she threw that over her shoulder, almost coyly, feet kicking up and down in those scuffed boots. "I got an older sister too. Her name's Maggie, but she's off in college right now doing Lord knows what. You got any brothers 'er sisters?"

Daryl grunted and nodded. "Mm'yea. Brotha. Older. Name's Merle."

"Oh yea, I think Daddy said something about you having a brother. Where's he at?"

"Away." The answer gave no room for more questions pertaining to the subject, and Daryl caught Beth out of the corner of his eye all nervous and frail again, hands clenching at the seat, frame tightening up in a natural response. He found himself gnashing his teeth together at the anger/guilt that coursed through him, as if he had hit her! The nerve! "Girl ya keep clenchin' like that an you gon' go an break yer bones."

That was his brother and daddy in him talking, but Merle had a way of getting to best or the worst out of people.

That seemed to snap her out of it, eyes flaring back to life.

Looked like it might be the best for her.

"You turn left to get to the next gate," was her response, huffy and full of energy.

Unfortunately, that was as far as they got for anything considered real conversation. The rest turned to work: the Greene farm was a fairly small operation. It was nothing like it used to be, most the land having been sold when Hershel's alcoholism took a turn for the worse after losing his first wife. Farming had been a supplement over all, so now they were down to just the two or three fields that they grew corn on, and then they'd rent land to hay for their two dairy cows that provided milk and cheese for them. There was a small roost of chickens, but nothing too terribly impressive, and Beth had taken a shine to gardening since the 8th grade. Her thumb wasn't the greenest, but with freezing and canning that Annette did, they normally made enough food in the summer to avoid the high cost of buying too many groceries in the off months. Small town prices were always notoriously higher, and they avoided the big box stores like they were sin incarnate for the most part, only making trips maybe every quarter to the big city to stock up.

Beth would teach Daryl how to till and plant the corn (she made a mention Shawn would help out more with that), and then show him how to use Shawn's combine for when harvesting came around, though with his mechanical background, he hopefully wouldn't need to be taught much. Other than that, their tractor wasn't doing the best and could use some repairs, but until the ground got warm enough and stayed thawed, it was mild maintenance around the farm. He'd be put in charge of milking the cows and taking care of the chickens since Annette was starting to have a hard time with it, and Beth was still stuck with schooling. She'd help him with it the first week or two until she was sure he got the hang of it. Beth had made a mention that they used to get a hog that they'd raise for slaughter, but after the last one had destroyed her garden two years ago, they hadn't gotten one since.

They had a few horses, but nothing special. Out here, a lot of people had 'nothing special' horses, just something to ride and that was about it. The competition stables and rich folk were quite a few miles away, to the south and north of them, and Beth was fine with that. She had her few friends (more like forced because of class time), but she was still quiet and spent a lot of time plucking at the piano and strumming the guitar when alone, or just helping out at the farm, which was more often than she cared to admit.

Daryl was shown the rest of the land on foot. They had parked back at the house and trekked past the well and out and over the fence and went out towards the woods.

"You hunt at all?" she asked. She had warmed up a little to him several hours later, but there was still that wary skitter to her body, a rabbit posed to run away at a moments notice. "Daddy's not big on guns though. He's got a rifle or two, but that's mostly for defendin and show. He wouldn't appreciate ya usin' a gun on his land without askin'."

"Naw'," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Got a crossbow tho." She stopped a moment to look at him. The day was in the low 50's, high 40's, and she had a jacket and hat on to stop the cold. Daryl had just a flannel and an old leather jacket that had seen better days, but the cold didn't seem to bother him. "May be I cud ask 'em if it's okay ta use that?"

"Don't see why not." There was the look again, wanting to ask more, very curious, but Beth was too timid to outright ask him. She walked ahead some more, mindful of the slopes and change in terrain. "We got a creek that runs through here. Gets a little swampy sometimes. Just be careful cause we get some steep slopes. If you go over a few miles thataway," she pointed north, "then you'll see the highway." A cold gust of wind came through, bringing the chill of the frost, the sun's warmth hidden from the tree canopy. "Guess it's time to head back. Ever milk a cow before?"

* * *

Daryl had not, in fact, milked a cow before, and he found himself increasingly frustrated by his lack of knowledge with the subject. The only thing he was thankful for was that Beth was a patient teacher, one who did not sneer or giggle at his incompetence. Unfortunately, Daryl was not one to maintain his temper and within the first ten minutes he had cursed profusely, kicked the bucket and stool over, scaring the cow into nearly kicking him, and caused Beth to clench for what was most likely the sixth time that first day (in less than five hours, no less).

Livestock was not his thing, but a job was a job, and that was the only thing preventing him from storming away right that minute.

After most of the anger had dissipated, they stood there in the other part of the barn, bucket overturned and to a rest. It was very quiet except for the gentle, perturbed mooing of the milk cow (affectionately dubbed George).

"I ain't no goddamn milk maid," Daryl muttered.

"Daryl, don't worry, it's fine," Beth said. She placed the stool back by George and grabbed hold of the bucket and rinsed it out at the hydrant. She came back and sat down, looking at him expectantly. She took on an almost maternal role, not batting an eye at the very much temper tantrum he had thrown, showing only compassion. "But this is your job. You've agreed ta this. I'm going to help you out with this and it will be okay. There's plenty for you to do that you're good at around here, but this is just a small part of the job, and it has to be done." He walked over to her and she got up, motioning for him to sit on the stool. He did and she leaned down by him to show him what should be done. "We don't always get to choose what we get to do, we just make the best of it."

It seemed to calm him down and he placed his hands on George's teets like Beth had shown him before, and this time he allowed her to gently placed her hands over his. The gentle pressure of her hands told him when and where to squeeze. It took a few tries, but he soon was getting long streams of milk into the bucket, surprised at the fact he had to do things like clean the udder and use a lubricant.

Beth made a mention that they invested in a milking machine several years ago, but it had broken down and Hershel did not have the time nor want to fix it, saying that they could go back to the way things were instead of wasting time on a blasted piece of machinery. It had been put away in storage, only to collect dust. Daryl made a mental note to find it and see if he could tinker with it. While it was a personal little victory to be able to milk a cow the old fashioned way, he'd rather get the tiresome chore over and done with, especially if he was getting stuck with it in the mornings.

Another twenty minutes went by before they were completely done with that, giving Annette the full bucket, being told that they would need to wash up because it was time for lunch. Beth showed Daryl the bathroom to wash up and she left to take her shoes off, letting him know the sandwiches were ready in the kitchen when he stepped out.

He was greeted with decadent BLT's, potato salad, and some of the best sweet tea he had in ages. Annette scoffed and said it was merely a simple lunch, but to a man that spent his life living off beer and gas station food, along with bar pretzels, it was damn near considered a feast. Daryl was through his first sandwich and just starting his second one when Beth sat down next to him at the table, eyeing his bad manners of lips smacking and finger sucking. He noticed the slight judgement in her eyes and for good measure, made sure to turn slightly to her, taking a long draw of the mayonnaise that had dribbled onto his thumb. Her cheeks reddened slightly and she quickly looked down to her plate, grabbing hold of her own sandwich and furiously taking a bite so as not having to focus on him.

He turned his lips into the tiniest of smirks, even though he knew it was childish. He didn't really care. This girl made him feel too many different things and she was too hard to read with what her thinking was. Most people were easy to peg, but between the skittish nature and cutting gaze, he found himself offput and on the heels of his feet, so to speak.

Lunch was quiet for the most part, Annette prattling on about this and that, flitting about the kitchen as she cleaned and put leftovers away. Beth barely said anything, all doe-eyed and meekness at its finest.

He asked her if there was maybe anything else that needed attending to immediately besides the tractor, and she shook her head. With that, he excused himself from the table and politely informed them that he was going to unpack if that was alright with them, then take a look at the intimidating machinery first thing in the morning.

"Supper will be at six," Annette had stated matter of factly.

"Wouldn't miss it," and Daryl was stepping out of the farmhouse and into the Georgia sun that was battling the last bit of winter.

He went out to his pickup, pulling a few duffel bags out of the back, sneaking a look at the house before grabbing the case of beer as well. In moments, he was in the back of the barn/office/converted room, up in the loft portion above the animals. The bed already had linens and a worn, but comfortable looking quilt. Hershel had explained that once a week he was to give Annette the linens and if he was okay with it, Daryl could also give her the rest of his laundry to do.

"We treat any help we've hired in the past like family," Hershel had told him, "so long as they respect us like good family back."

The comment had contained a threatening undertone that Daryl was no stranger to. With Merle gone, he was perfectly happy to remain quiet and save some money up. Merle had unfortunately busted into his last stash, so nearly all his savings (no matter how pathetic) had been wiped clean.

After unpacking his few bags (an old vest with angel wings, various wife beaters and shirts, an extra pair of riding boots), he fell onto the bed with a thump, grabbing hold of the television remote to turn the old set in front of him on. It clicked to life easily, a bit fuzzy because it was an older model, but something he lived with all his life. The news was on, looked to be something about a new deadly virus that was becoming associated with feral cannibalism in West Africa. Scientists feared it was a severe mutation of the Ebola virus outbreak that had yet to be contained as symptoms of fever, skin rash, bleeding, among headaches and whatnot were common with the new strain. Travel was restricted and they were currently working on contacting all travelers that had been through the last month to confirm health, blah blah bl-click!

Daryl changed the channel and let himself be content with some no-name sitcom he wasn't aware of. He never stayed caught up with current shows anyways, but the noise and light from the T.V. was comforting. He found it was a nice alternative to drinking himself into oblivion though, or trying to stop potentially lethal fights from breaking out.

Speaking of drinking…

He looked to the case of beer he had snuck in, suddenly feeling parched. Hershel had let it be known from the get-go that drinking on the property would not be tolerated, as the old patriarch battled and struggled with years of alcoholism before allowing the grace of God back into his life. Hershel had said he didn't care if Daryl went to the bar in town for a few drinks, but he would not allow liquor anywhere near his home, nor have someone who was a drunken slob close to his family.

Daryl couldn't blame the old man for that rule. His own father had been a strong alcoholic (along with some drug issues), and had a mean streak wider than the whole side of the barn, prone to physical violence as the answer above all else.

He would know that violence, having been on the receiving end many times. His back, littered with marks from such fits,

However, even with the threat of being kicked out, Daryl cracked open a beer, minding to not make a mess, and threw the empty bottle into one of his moving boxes when done. He was mindful to at least dispose of the evidence in a safer place later.

The pleasant feel of alcohol coursed through his veins, just enough to take the edge off after downing three beers within twenty minutes. Out the window, he could see the light of the Greene family farm house and make out the shapes of its occupants. It appeared that Annette and Hershel were downstairs, lights on and two figures visible through the large living room window. Upstairs, in what must have been Beth's room, was another light. If Daryl squinted hard enough, he could see her lithe figure.

Then suddenly, that figure began to strip out of her clothes.

While the obvious details were not available, the swell of pert breasts and a firm, rounded ass could be made out. She must have been standing in front of a mirror, for Daryl could see the impression of hands wandering over flesh, exploring and curious. Hands gripped her breasts, and he could see the tension in her body as she explored herself.

He looked away, feeling mildly shameful, a telltale stirring in his jeans. However, looking back to the window, it appeared that the light was off and Beth was nowhere to be seen; but, the painful erection straining against his jeans now refused to be ignored.

What wasn't known wouldn't hurt.

He downed another beer, his inhibitions lowering. A few minutes later, and there was the unmistakable sound of his belt hitting the floor, jeans opened and pulled down to the thighs with his boxer briefs. His cock practically sprang up, hard and throbbing. He hissed in a pleasure pain as he gripped himself. It was then he settled into the old practice of a somewhat fast pace, just enough to extend the pleasure, but fast enough to finish in a reasonable amount of time.

He allowed his mind to wander to prolong the pleasure. He imagined Beth climbing onto the bed, her soft lips on his flesh. He imagined the sounds she'd make as his rough hands would gently caress the small, pert breasts he had seen earlier, nipples pointed and sensitive to a man's touch in the best way. She'd probably arch into his touch, grinding against him for release, and he'd be slow to take her, make sure to treat her right. He could imagine the taste of her skin, how she'd taste down there, and before he could get any further, he felt the tightening of his balls and he came onto his bare stomach.

However, the orgasmic release was not enough to quell the shame, and his mood soured quickly. Angrily, he grabbed at the spare roll of toilet paper by his bedside and wiped up the mess, carefully disposing of his filthiness into the moving box with the empty beer bottles.

"Stupid," he muttered to himself. And suddenly, because old habits died hard (even if the old habit wasn't technically alive anymore), he slapped himself upside the head. It was angry, fast, and hard. His old man had done that often, whenever Daryl was caught doing something like peeking on the neighbor girl in the shower, or stealing a beer. His sperm donor of a father pretty much looked for any excuse to hit him. "Fuckin' sick." He spat out the last word, a long string of beer and saliva splashing onto the floor, hitting himself once more hard, and for good emphasis.

He looked over to the clock, seeing it was already close to six. He made sure he looked respectable and that there was no smell of beer or semen on him before he went back out, making sure to put the empty beer bottles and wadded up tissue in the moving box discreetly into the back of his truck before going to the main house.

Daryl knocked at the door, not sure at what he was allowed to do at the main home concerning comings and goings. Annette answered the door with a smile, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist.

"Oh Daryl," she chided affectionately, "there's no need to knock. You just let yourself right on in. After all, you're family here. G'on an make yourself at home."

Though the ridiculously quick acceptance of a stranger in their lives was confusing to him, he nodded in affirmation, stepping in as she went back to the kitchen to finish supper. Hershel was in the living room, reading the Holy Bible intently, making notes in a notepad on the side table next to his chair. Beth was nowhere to be seen, and Daryl was slightly thankful for that, not sure if he'd be able to face her after the thoughts that went through his head about her not even an hour earlier.

"Bethy!" Annette called from the kitchen. "I need your help finishing up and setting the table!"

"Just a second, Mama!" called Beth from upstairs. Moments later, Daryl heard that light stepping of shoes as she gracefully ran down the stairs and went to the kitchen, changed into a new set of clothes for the evening. She caught sight of Daryl, who happened to awkwardly be standing between the living room and kitchen and she gave a nervous smile.

He felt like a total shit.

"Hey." Her voice was soft. "How about you come help me bring tha stuff out to the dinner table? If that's okay with you?"

"Mhm," he replied and motioned for her to take the lead.

Uncertainty laced her actions as she slowly went to the kitchen with him trailing her, but it was soon replaced with practiced routines. She handed Daryl the dinner plates and silverware, indicating to just go ahead and set them at the table, while she grabbed a basket of rolls and a butter dish. Never having really sat down for a home cooked meal, he set the table the best way he thought, though he waited to see if Beth or someone would correct what he figured to be a wrong placement. However, Beth did no such thing, only having him follow her back into the kitchen to grab the rest of the food that Annette had ready.

Tonight was short ribs, sitting in a pan and swirled tantalizingly with its juices, along with an over sized bowl of mashed potatoes, some green beans, and cottage cheese. He could hardly believe his eyes, mouth salivating at the aromas as he sat down with the rest of the family. Because Hershel was at the head of the table, Annette sat to his left, Beth on the other side, and Daryl ended up sitting right next to Beth, uncomfortable with the fact he could catch a whiff of her shampoo every now and then. It was vanilla and peaches, light and fruity with a tangy-ness that was purely female.

Hershel held out his hands so that Beth and Annette grabbed them as he settled his head down in prayer. Beth offered her other hand to Daryl, looking to him expectantly. Hesitant, he finally took hold of her hand, not all surprised at the delicacy it possessed and feeling some unknown emotion when she smiled at him again before bowing her head down for prayer. Daryl had never prayed before, and merely looked down and staying silent as Hershel began.

"Lord, we thank you for this bountiful harvest you have given us, and for enriching our lives. Thank you, for giving me a beautiful wife that feeds my family every day. Thank you for my lovely daughters, may you have mercy on Maggie's wandering soul, and please watch over Daryl as he navigates his way through this life. Please watch over Otis and Patricia so that Otis may heal quickly and they return to us in safety. Please watch over my son, Shawn, and make sure he continues his good work. Lastly, thank you for our health, we will serve you always. Amen."

Beth and Annette murmured an 'Amen' after, though Daryl pulled his hand away quickly from Beth's and immediately went for the bowl of mashed potatoes, heaping enough onto his plate to fill up nearly half of the available space. He waited a moment, trying to see what he should do next, and gave an internal sigh of relief when Beth motioned at him to hand her the bowl so she could serve herself as well. Annette handed him the bowl of green beans after serving herself and he dug out a hearty portion with gusto, cottage cheese and short rib portions in plenty after, covering everything in the homemade gravy.

Taking large bites of the mashed potatoes, Daryl couldn't help but reflect on how normal the whole situation was.

It was strange.

 **End Chapter 2**

 _Author Note (_ _ **warnings explanation**_ _):_ Someone in their review had mentioned Beth looking down her nose at Daryl for no good reason. However, we must remember that Daryl and Beth were **VERY** different people we first met compared to how they last were in season 4 and 5 and she didn't like him when they first met. Also, rape-Beth scenario...I'm not one using rape for shock value. However, almost sexual abuse, men trying to take advantage, violence...things that progress a story, are very different. I'm going to focus on the more savage side of things. Beth will turn into a strong woman, but she's not exactly the most self-reliant in the beginning. Again, we must remember that these two are not like how we last saw them, changed and for the better with the apocalypse. Them meeting ahead of time definitely changes things, and I hope I'm not too OOC. There's a blend I'm trying to find, which is interesting and a challenge.

Now, onto the **masturbation** bit and hitting himself...Daryl was a sonofabitch in the first season. He was a total jackass, remember? A hot jackass, but just a bastard nonetheless. It took time being away from Merle to better himself and become his own man. Now, masturbating because of Beth, I could see happening. During the ZA, he didn't have time to notice women (brother searching and surviving), but now, he's safe and able to notice things. I think Daryl would have totally noticed Beth earlier on, especially with one-on-one interaction, so just keep that in mind. The hitting himself bit: kids that have been abused in the past can be stuck in that and self-abuse when their abuser is no longer around. I chose to keep this particularly troubling bit because surviving child abuse for Daryl is still mentioned and his old man obviously affected him and scarred him not only physically, but mentally. With Beth, he had started to heal from that, and maybe some of that can happen earlier in this tale ;)

Sorry for the long-ass notes. I'm long-winded and I want to give you, the reader, the justification of a character action as I have seen. Sometimes, that's not present in the story immediately and can be off-putting to some. Also, this chapter clocked in like 1000 more words. I just couldn't end it much sooner without it being weird for me. The line breaks present in the chapter are just scene changes for me. What I do is write like 6+ pages until I get bored and then highlight a decent amount immediately after the last chapter posting, until I find a spot I feel is good to leave off, and put an End Chapter note before the line break. It helps me to go through one document and do a quick search to try and keep things smooth. No updates next week, just a FYI. I am going on my long overdue honeymoon the on 22nd for a week (Harry Potter World! Tally-ho!) - we got married in September! Gah! So that's why a longer chapter, longer notes, all that jazz. Chapter 3 is like 2000+ words in already and I'll be writing on it the rest of the day for catch-up, but the rest of this week will be spent on _Blackbird Singing_ for my small, but very strong, and loyal peeps there. I suggest you check it out! Way more lighthearted and fluffy :D

 _Ciao_


	3. Redneck Knight

**When You Care**

 _A Bethyl Story_

 _ **Chapter 3 - Redneck Knight**_

 **Warning(s): Brief male on female violence, mentions of abuse, self abuse and masturbatory references**

Two weeks passed by.

Two, uneventful, hard, and boring weeks passed by, and that was hard enough in itself.

Springtime had come early this year, mornings already muggy with the sun beating down for the day by mid-morning. Chores went a little slow and messy for Daryl the first few days, but after Beth had helped him straighten a few kinks out, they went smoothly, and he would usually be finished with a lot of the work (aside from long-term projects) by early evening, just in time for supper. While the early mornings were trying, he had adjusted surprisingly well to the new lifestyle and expectations that followed.

He didn't see too much of Beth without Hershel or Annette in view. It became an unspoken agreement that Daryl never be alone with the youngest child of the Greene clan, even if nothing had happened, it was always best to be preventative and not taint the purity of Miss Beth. When Shawn came to visit the first week Daryl was there to make sure everything was alright, the Greene man had pulled Daryl to the side during a lull in conversation.

"I just wanted to thank you for your hard work here, Daryl," Shawn had muttered, placing a large, callused hand in what appeared to be companionship on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl's response was a grunt and a nod, uncomfortable with the contact. Then, Shawn's grip tightened. "But," his voice lowered, grip tightening still, "I catch you alone wit my baby sister, we 'gon have sum problems, kay?"

"Ya sayin' I'm sum kin'd ah perv?" Daryl bit out, harsh and a little angry and being outed, though he would never admit such a thing. He couldn't lie to himself, he found Beth attractive, but to others, he'd deny it until his dying day. "I know fuckin' better than ta' even lookit her wrong."

He knew that last part was a lie. After that first night he allowed himself to fall into a dark hole and fantasize about her while he touched himself. He found it harder and harder to not just notice her. She always wore slim jeans that looked as if they were painted on, and tank tops that seemed to always be falling off whenever she was around him. Of course, when not in school, she would change into something more comfortable and broken in before helping muck stalls or gather eggs, but that seemed to exacerbate the situation. She'd gather a fine sheen of sweat and her stretches to relieve tension would define the shape of her ass and perky little bust to him without a care in the world. And of course, Daryl would be thinking of that ass and those tits nearly every night when alone, pumping himself with his hand and hating himself all the while, for it. It was a torturous cycle, and one he wasn't sure how to break, hitting himself repeatedly upside the head with verbal insults after cumming onto himself, disposing of the evidence with shame. The idea of Beth being so promiscuous as she was in his fantasies was extremely inappropriate and most likely laughable, but there was something about her that called to him in a way he never felt before, and wanting a young woman like her was foreign, invading on his thoughts.

Beth just seemed to make everything worse without even trying.

She got used to him within the week when she realized he was all bark without the bite. While she was still wary enough of him to appease his sullen attitude, she clenched less around him, and even attempted conversation with him a few times, though nothing too prying. It was mostly asking him how the chores were going, if he had any questions on operations, and what was his favorite food. Hershel and Annette were kind in their own way, staying far enough away to let him be, but close enough to be of a supervisory and nurturing position, something he felt was too good for him. Then, there was still Shawn, dropping by every few days to help make sure things were going smoothly and beginning preparations for planting.

Daryl was used to staying in the shadows without Merle around to run the show, and it was a different tone and pacing for him at the Greene farm. He wasn't expected to kick someone's ass at the drop of a hat, but merely work his off. The drinking being a no-no was a bit of hell on his system, he'd wake some days sweating with his body desperately trying to detox the stuff, and took to his cigarette smoking with more gusto than usual. Sometimes, he'd go through a pack a day, especially if Beth got too close to him in any way. Then, there was the food! Holy hell, he had never eaten so well in his life. If he were vainer, he'd be afraid of getting fat, but between not giving a shit and the grueling work, that was never a problem, his arms already getting larger from use.

For a redneck, high school dropout, Daryl was finding his current situation to be pretty damn nice.

That evening, he ended the day as usual. The heat had been slowly, but steadily climbing. He had a good sweat going by the time the supper bell was rung, stinking and clothes ruined like usual. Beth came walking away from the stables, covered in dirt and shit, but looking happier than a pig in a mud pen. Though she appeared to be a fragile creature, he had been surprised by her tenacity and hard work ethic, happier to be on the farm and getting filthy than out and about with her friends.

After a quick cleanup in the bathroom at the house and a change of clothes, he nearly ran into Beth in the hallway. She gave a squeak of surprise like a mouse, his reflexes having his hands grabbing hold of her arms to steady her so she wouldn't fall.

"Daryl!" she exclaimed, her blue eyes bright and wide. "I'm sorry. Didn't see ya thur."

"S'fine," he mumbled in reply. His grip was firm, but didn't hurt. He could smell her shampoo from here, cream and peaches, a bit of honey, and some perfume that was smooth and like laundry. She was freshly showered, having come from the other bathroom available, hair still a bit damp, part of it braided to keep some of it in place. "You good?"

She nodded furiously, eyes darting across his features. She took note of the fact that his eyes had darkened slightly, nostrils flared, but his lips weren't curled in a tight sneer like they had been on their first meeting. In fact, the set of his jaw, while somewhat tense, wasn't in anger or hostility. He seemed nervous, more than anything else.

"Bethy! Sup's ready!" Annette called from the kitchen.

"I'm gonna go and help mama with tha table. See you down there." Beth nearly whispered the last words to Daryl, running down the stairs as noiselessly as possible.

He was left in the hallway with nothing but a scent and a feeling.

* * *

The Honda Accord was from the early nineties, old and loud. It was a bright blue, a little banged up, but well loved if just a plain old shitbox in nature. At least it was reliable. There were three girls piled into it, just as loud and obnoxious as the car. Some kind of top forties hit was playing, speakers blasting and disruptive to the normally quiet atmosphere of the Greene farm. The girls were all giggling and looked to be about Beth's age, though dressed nowhere near that. Instead, they wore short, tight dresses and heels that were too high to be sensible. The caked on makeup and overpowering perfumes were less than attractive to Daryl, and he chose to ignore them, instead taking one last, long drag of the iced tea that Annette had given him before he had sat himself on the porch with Hershel.

"That'd be Bethy's friends," Hershel said to Daryl. He waved to the newcomers. "Hello ladies, Beth's upstairs in her room. You can g'on up." He stood to escort them. "I'll be back in a minute, Daryl."

The girls chorused greetings to Hershel, who had already entered the house, leaving them alone with Daryl on the front porch.

"Well, well…who do we have here?" The leader of the group, a tall brunette with shapely legs that she showed off with a teal bodycon dress, slinked forward, doing her best to sway her hips in a seductive manner. The smile on her face was almost predatory, bright red lips and pearly white teeth all in a straight row. "I'm Tanya. What's your name, handsome?"

She'd be pretty enough if not for the heavy eyeliner and off-color of the foundation, two shades too dark for her natural skin tone. The hair was big, curled and fluffed, and everything about her just screamed fake. He was pretty sure a drop in the swimming pool would ruin the whole effect, and truth be told, her style had just never been his thing. Girls like that meant an easy catch for those nights he needed release and they'd be taken from behind, heads smashed into the pillow so he wouldn't have to look at them while he finished his business.

Daryl quirked an eyebrow at her, body tensing and hands balling up to form fists at his side. Though he had taken a shower, his clothes were old and worn, from years of use, and the pants had grease stains that weren't likely to come out anytime soon. Tanya didn't seem to care, though the other two girls, another brunette and one with straight black hair whose color came from a box, shied away somewhat nervously from him, clearly imposed by his stance.

"We the strong, silent type?" Tanya clucked her tongue, walking closer to him so that she was standing in front of him. Her perfume was fruity and clean, but there was so much that it became nearly suffocating. "I like 'em like a'tha-t." She drawled out the last word so that her slim fingers came to tease the flesh of his exposed bicep thanks to a flannel with roughly cut off sleeves. Lightening fast, his opposite hand came up and gripped her wrist, painfully wrenching it away. "Hh-eaeey!"

"Tanya, you okaeh?" Beth's voice was just outside the door, and Daryl stepped away from Tanya, dropping her wrist as if it were a hot iron. Beth came outside, face freshly scrubbed with just a hint of mascara, eyeliner, and blush. She looked up at Daryl, slightly confused. "Oh hey, Daryl. I thought you'd be out ton-aight. I guess Daddy forgot to tell ya, but you don't have work in tha mornin' since we'll be out ta church. He forgot last week too, it's tha one day ya don't have to put in any work aside from milkin and feedin'. Sorry."

"S'okay," he said softly, if a little roughly, and Beth smiled a little at that.

"Oh, so this is Daryl," Tanya said, eyes wide in now recognition. "Bethy here has said lots 'bout ya!" She slung her arm across Beth's shoulders, much to the blonde's protests. "Wanna go out with us ta'night, Daa-erryl?"

"Tanya, be nice," Beth shushed. "I don' like it! Sides, he don't need to hang out with us, he's got better things ta do!"

Daryl quirked an eyebrow, surprised at the angry bite present in Beth's tone.

"Oooohhh...Jimmyy still pissed ya' did-un put out at the kegger?" When Beth wouldn't answer, Tanya rolled her eyes. "Fine!" She looked at Beth, and Daryl decided in his mind that both girls were way too close for comfort, though he leaned slightly more towards Beth, if to escape Tanya's scent at the very least. "But!" Tanya pointed at Beth. "You are NOT goin' out like tha't! We gon' make that boy regret givin ya the cold shoulder." She grabbed Beth by her wrist and proceeded to drag her into the house. "Tammy Lynn! Mary! C'mon! Grab tha clothes 'an let's get this shit rollin'!"

Beth looked back to Daryl before disappearing into the house, blue eyes wide and her body tensing like she was ready to fly away.

* * *

He sat at the bar, nursing a Bud Light, sullen and staring hard at the television.

George's Office, on a Saturday night, wasn't packed, but wasn't empty, either. It seemed the place was the bar for older locals, grizzled men who were retired with nothing to do but some day drinking into the evening, and those who just couldn't seem to stay away from the bottle, littered parts of the bar with their presence, and a small group of middle aged men took up two tables. They were the loudest ones by far, but Daryl chose to ignore them and nurse his third beer of the evening and look at the news on TV with the closed captions on.

 _Doctors have confirmed that what we originally thought was an Ebola virus mutation is now a completely different virus. Symptoms are flu-like in nature, with unnaturally high fevers, but the CDC hasn't said much more._

 _Oh wow, Kathy, that sounds serious. Now, they are still working on contacting all travelers, but anyone with a high fever, or that has come into physical contact with someone exhibiting such symptoms, are urged to seek immediate medical attention._

 _Stay safe out there, and if you've traveled to Africa within the last month, especially the area in and around Sierra Leone, please contact your nearest CDC branch right away for clearance. Self-quarantine of 21 days is in effect, and your nearest CDC will take procedures to help you during self-quarantine days._

 _And now, our next story. We'll tell you all about the baby that saved a puppy's life, right after this commercial break._

"Ebolas an' fevers an' shit," the old man next to Daryl said. "Ff-cuk th'at!" He took a gulp of his Jack and Coke. "Amirite?"

"M'hmm." Daryl nodded and took another swig of his beer. He felt a sour taste in his mouth suddenly, thinking of the news report he saw a few weeks ago. Nothing had happened in their area, but it just felt weird. "Takin' a piss."

After using the bathroom, he stepped outside to smoke (damn those new laws).

The Greene farm was several miles from a small town, and George's Office was one of two bars that the fuckville middle of nowhere had. While he didn't mind small town bars, Daryl found it easier when towns had people drinking like fishes to justify several more establishments at the very least, unlike here. It meant that when Merle wasn't around, he'd be able to keep to himself without some old prick trying to make small talk with him, unlike a few moments earlier.

It was pretty quiet, except the time of the evening had some teenagers driving down main, windows rolled down and music loud. Cops wouldn't do much to those kids, they were concerned more about drunk drivers and drug dealing than anything else. There were only four cars pulling a drag down main, but each one was packed to the brim with teenagers, and among them was a familiar, crappy blue Honda.

They all parked not too far down the street, within a block from him, in front of the movie theater that had finished it's showing of one movie for the evening not too long ago. Some of the kids ran inside to grab snacks that were still being sold at the concession stand, while the rest stood outside their vehicles, one or two lighting up cigarettes, another couple aggressively making out, and then another couple that seemed less cuddly.

The other couple looked to be Beth and her boyfriend. Ben? Tim? Timmy? Something ending in -immy. Daryl could honestly give two shits. The boy had picked up Beth the first week of Daryl's work and Hershel had called out both their names, shaking his fist and hollering about curfew and his beloved baby girl and all that. Frankly, Daryl found the whole thing amusing, though the hostility between the two so-called lovebirds was nearly palpable at the moment.

Beth's boyfriend seemed to drag her away from their friends and they walked down the street, towards the bar where Daryl was at. The young man had his one arm slung around Beth's shoulders, while his other seemed to hold her to his side. She looked uncomfortable, and slightly mad at the situation she was in, her cheeks tinged pink so much so that Daryl could see them even from a distance, under the illumination provided from the streetlights.

She was dressed up, thanks to her friends, but seemed uneasy with the clothes she was in: strapless, sparkling peach dress, with five inch high heeled platforms, and some gaudy jewelry to boot. Her hair was curled and tousled to look like she just had a roll in the sack, with dark eyeliner surrounding her eyes, way too much mascara, and a red shade of lipstick that made her seem paler than she really was.

"Where we goin', Jimmy?" she asked. Daryl kept his head down to avoid any recognition. He wasn't one to inject himself into a situation, more the silent and observe type. "They're all leaving soon, ya know."

"They can come get us later," Jimmy said as he pulled at Beth insistently towards the alley that was next door to the bar. "C'mon, I just wanna spend sum time witcha."

Beth struggled against him a little, digging her heels into the pavement as best as she could, and pushed away from him, but his hold on her was by far stronger.

"I don't want ta, Jimmy," she protested.

Daryl cursed inwardly.

He should have known.

The boy was all glassy eyed and red in the face. He had been drinking all evening, and heavily at that. What worried Daryl most was the underlying tone of it. There was that quiet anger present, the kind that would take another five years at least before it was unleashed, but it was there, just under the surface. It was the kind that would result in lashing out after one too many shit days at work, and one of the kids would be crying when he got home, and supper wouldn't be ready yet. Beth would probably ask him how his day was after he'd had a few too many, after the kids were in bed. He'd grumble a smartass reply, she'd get a little huffy. Then, she'd ask him if he could help her with something instead of watching the TV, and that's when it would happen. It'd be a quick slap, hard and unexpected, with a biting remark following right after. There'd be the shock of it, sure, but he'd come to the realization that it felt good. He'd then think too that maybe she deserved it, maybe it was her fault and not his, and from there it would only get out of control.

"Yer bein a fuckin' bitch, you know," Jimmy said, his anger more evident now.

"Jimmy!" she said, shocked at his language.

His hold on her tightened and Beth whimpered out a protest, saying it hurt, but he ignored her. They were down in the alley at this point. Their friends had left surprisingly quick, and the two didn't even notice Daryl or the fact that he'd flicked his cigarette away and was straight out watching them, slowly walking to them with a quiet ease like a ghost.

"I don't want to do this," Beth said, voice becoming high pitched. She pushed against Jimmy again, firmly. He still wouldn't let go. "I want to go home, I don't want to go steady with you if this is how you're gonna be, Jimmy." The last part of her sentence trailed off as she got teary eyed and her voice broke.

She was terrified.

"They tol' me you were jus like Maggie." Jimmy pushed her so her back hit the wall. His hand pawed at her breast, fingers pinching a nipple hard. His voice got mocking. "She'll be so damn easy, act all high and mighty but we KNOW what she WANTS!"

Slap!

Beth stared at him, shocked that her hand had reacted so quickly. The action was done instinctively, Jimmy's cheek bright red immediately. Her palm burned painfully with the force of the hit and he looked at her with surprise.

"Shouldn't have dun that," he murmured, before grabbing her by the shoulders and tossing her back up against the wall so hard that her head connected. "Why ya gotta go an ruin it all?"

The pain radiated through her skull so immediately she nearly threw up, yelling out in protest and crying. The world was black with violent explosions of color before her eyes, but the sound was all there, and all else she could feel was completely horrified at the fact that her boyfriend had turned into a total ass. Ever since he saw Daryl was working on their farm a few weeks ago, he had made assumptions something was happening between the farmhand and Beth. That night at the keg party, he drank himself silly, tried to sleep with her. While Beth didn't consider herself necessarily a prude, she wasn't ready to give up her virginity to a boy she had only been dating a few months.

It was like a seed had been planted. They had fought that night, their first big one, and he had reacted in a way she hadn't expected, which was somewhat violent. It made Beth sulk, unsure if she wanted to keep dating. She had only started to date him because of her friends and his friends as well. It was like they were pushed into it. Jimmy would get along with Beth because he had helped out at her farm over the summer the last few years. Of course they would hit it off.

Now, with her head aching, ears ringing, she knew this couldn't continue. Not anymore. However, she had more immediate problems, like how the hell she was going to get away from him, because she had no idea what he was capable of anymore.

Daryl didn't want to interfere. He was never one for letting himself take charge of a situation, but then again, he was never one for men beating women. His father, sonofabitch that he was, beat his mama, and since then any violence against women made Daryl see red and go wild. Men that beat women were lower than dirt, no good to anyone, like a feral dog that needed to be put down. When he heard the slap, he charged into the alleyway without a second thought. The whole thing had gotten completely out of hand. He had hoped the boy wasn't stupid enough to take things further, but he had been wrong, and that cry of agony from Beth spurred him into action.

"Tha fuck you doin boy?" he yelled as he ripped Jimmy away from Beth. Beth slid down to the ground, crying, clenching as best as she could, as if it might take her away from the whole ugly mess. Daryl punched Jimmy, hard. "Didn' yer daddy ever teach ya how ta treat a lady?" He hit him again. "Huh?!"

The boy's face was bloody now, and he was knocked out cold. Daryl went to punch again, red bleeding into his vision, anger pushing his body, but Beth stopped him, pleading.

"Daryl!" she cried. She came up behind him, rushing to him in a hug that stopped him cold, and he let go of Jimmy, the young man falling to the ground in a heap. "Stop. Please. Stop!" She was still crying, clinging to him tight. "I wanna go now."

He was breathing hard, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. It took several moments before he was able to calm down, sweat beading at his brow. Beth still clung to him, small and trembling, her sobs having died down. No one had come to check on the commotion, probably because no one cared, the way most small towns were able to turn a blind eye to any problems that may occur.

Finally, the tension passed. Jimmy was stirring a little, spurring the other two to action. Beth let go of Daryl, and he turned to look at her, inspecting her to see if she had any other wounds. She still looked a little dazed, but okay for the most part.

"How's your head?" he asked.

Her eyes were big and glassy. She looked so pale and out of place in the filth of the alley in the night.

"It hurts," she whispered. "But I'm okay."

He nodded his head towards the entrance, thankful he always paid for his drinks with cash and didn't start tabs so they could make a quick getaway.

"C'mon." His voice was low and rough. "I'll give ya a ride."

They hurried away to Daryl's pickup, leaving Jimmy alone to sort things out when he came to. Without any words, Daryl began to drive, radio on low to not overwhelm then. His grip on the steering wheel was white knuckled, that much tighter when he stole a glance at Beth and saw her face, sad and eyes swollen and red from crying, mascara streaked down her face.

They were heading back to the Greene farm when Beth said, "Don't take me home yet. I'm not ready. Daddy'll still be up. He can't see me like this." She looked into the passenger mirror of the visor to confirm her fears of her disheveled appearance. "I ne'er thought he'd do sumthin like that." She began crying. "Why did he do that to me?"

Not one for comforting crying women, Daryl was completely out of his element. He felt uncomfortable with Beth breaking down next to him. Part of him wanted to yell at her, get the spark back into her again so she might fight the whole issue head on, but Merle in his head sneered how stupid an idea that was and how she'd hate him forever. The part of him that didn't talk much in his mind didn't like the thought that Beth could hate him forever.

Instead, he kept driving, pulling onto some different back roads until there were no houses or people around for miles, and then he went off road in a field that was used to check the fence line, drove until the tracks and ruts got a little too deep, and stopped the pickup. Beth was still crying, but he couldn't bear to reach out and touch her.

That just wasn't his style.

Instead, he let her cry it out, nothing but the sound of the night and the radio softly playing to accompany her.

When she calmed down (finally), he turned to look at her. Even with all the makeup smeared and all the crying, Beth was still a strikingly beautiful young woman. The electric thrill that hummed through his body made Daryl feel shame and only his hold on the steering wheel stopped him from hitting himself in front of her.

"Any guy who go an hits a lady don' deserved ta be cried o'er," he said. The words felt thick in his throat, sticky and uncomfortable, like something was sliding out of him that he wasn't familiar with. It scared him, a little. He was so used to be quick to the literal punch when he was around Merle, quick to defend, and quick to assume the worst. "He don' deserve your tears. He don' deserve nuthin from ya." Things with the Greene family were different, a little slower, a little more unfamiliar. He had already learned that a quick temper wasn't appreciated, and most of his outbursts were taken out on animals and equipment, without a person in view. But, he found that if he wasn't ugly and sneering with his actions, he was actually treated halfway decent, and that was something that hadn't happened in a long, long time. "You can do better 'an sum stupid farm boy."

He meant those words, and laced underneath was also him saying, _You can do better than me._

He wasn't sure if she understood him or not, but when she looked him in the eye, he saw all her fear and self loathing gone. There was a steel to her look, a little harder, a little colder. It wasn't directed at him in any way, but the energy of it was there.

"Thank you, Daryl," she said sincerely. She leaned over, placing her hand over his white knuckled grip, the honest admission present in her body. "You are so much better than sum stupid farm boy and I jus wanna seh thank you...for savin me."

There was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest at her words.

All he could do was nod. She nodded back and then settled back into the seat, unrolling her window to look up at the night sky, stars of the Milky Way dusted against the velvety blackness in an unapproachable and unspoken beauty.

"Okay if we stay here a bit longer?" she asked.

"Mhhm."

 **End Chapter 3**

 _Author Note:_ Guys, I am so sorry for the delay! The honeymoon took a bit more out of me than I originally thought (we spent soooo much money, ugh), but it was a total blast. Harry Potter World was super awesome and the whole trip was something we needed. My house, on the other hand, is throwing a bitch fit of dust and I have to do some major scrubbing. Seriously, house, calm yo shit. For the warnings in the chapter, if they're too over the top, please let me know. I just want to let people know what they're getting into I guess. How was the Jimmy bit? I feel like he'd be a little bit insecure and throwing alcohol and jealousy into the mix could exacerbate the problem, and we didn't get too much of him in the show. That, and I just am not a fan of a million characters. I can't pull a GRRM GoT shit and have a million different people and story lines. I mean, I could, but I don't feel like it right now.

Things are going to pick up now so there'll be another time jump. I want to get that whole zombie outbreak effect happening. There'll be a little more focus on those issues and then going to get Merle. I don't mean to rush it, but hey, we gotta have _some_ action, right? As far as lemons go, it's a slow burner. Like _18 Miles Out_ by MonDieu666 (which is a fantastic read, go now, if you haven't already!) slow burner, just a warning. There will be plenty of tension to go around so I hope you all appreciate it. I haven't gotten much into the 4th chapter. I headed on over to work on _Blackbird Singing_ as soon as I finished this so I can also get that updated.

Thoughts? Criticism? Questions? Sound off in the review section. It's lovely to see follows/faves, but I need some vocalization, y'all. Much love and hope you keep enjoying! :)

 _Ciao_


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